


This wasn't in the roommate agreement

by LaTessitrice



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (2012), Thor (Movies)
Genre: F/M, Loki Needs a Hug, Shameless Smut, tasertricks - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-12
Updated: 2012-12-12
Packaged: 2017-11-20 23:59:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,380
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/591155
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LaTessitrice/pseuds/LaTessitrice
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Loki and Darcy's uneasy cohabitation is about to be interrupted by the jealousy caused by a simple hug.</p>
            </blockquote>





	This wasn't in the roommate agreement

**Author's Note:**

> This is PWP. I make no apologies.
> 
> All characters belong to Marvel and mythology.

It started with an innocent hug. Well, two innocent hugs.  
  
“You should bring me baked goods more often.” Darcy’s voice was muffled by the way her face was smushed into Steve Rogers’ chest. The boy gave good hugs.  
  
“I’ll try to remember that,” he said as she disentangled herself, holding her arms aloft to Bruce instead.  
  
“But don’t let Thor see them, he’ll inhale everything and I won’t get a look in.”  
  
“Duly noted,” Bruce agreed, stepping back. “I’ll see you Monday.”  
  
The pair stepped into the hallway outside Darcy’s apartment and she shut the door behind them, picking up the batch of brownies from the little table beside the door. The boys had dropped by to visit Jane, but Jane wasn’t home so Darcy struck lucky.  
  
She whirled around, ready to sneak the batch to her bedroom, but stopped dead an inch before she collided with her roommate’s chest. She yelped and stepped back, clutching the tub of baked wonderfulness.

 “Jeez, how long have you been lurking there?”

The god of mischief was regarding her with a distinctly unmischievous stare, the bulk of his body blocking her retreat to the rest of the apartment.

Thor was spending an awful lot of time on Earth, since Jane refused to give up her career in science to laze around as a princess on Asgard, and wherever Thor went, Loki followed. He did so grudgingly, only because Odin had tied them together with some voodoo to ensure Loki couldn’t stray far enough from Thor to get into real trouble. When Darcy got fed up with just how noisy a roommate the God of Stomping made (not least when him and Jane got their freak on) she moved into the apartment across the hall—and Loki had followed, for the same reason.  
  
Luckily for Darcy, the fact she’d once tasered Thor gave her a lot of currency with Loki, and there was also that time she’d saved his ass against some freaky elves with the same taser. When it became clear she appreciated his bouts of mischief (as opposed to his bouts of malice), they became companions in a sense. He still scared the living crap out of her, and she cleared the hell out when in one of his sour moods, but on a good day he wasn’t so bad. Dropping water bombs on various uptight SHIELD agents made a boring work day go much quicker, especially when she was promised it’d never show up on camera.  
  
The unlucky part was he’d taken their easy friendship—something, according to Thor, Loki had never had before—and decided the obvious conclusion was they ought to be way more than friends. Enter Intense Loki. Intense Loki was very flattering for her ego but troubling for her sanity. Her heart and loins said go there; her head said she’d have better luck writing horny letters to someone on death row.  
  
Ol’ Silvertongue didn’t make nearly as much noise as the god of thunder when he walked—in fact, he often didn’t seem to make any noise at all, which she swore he did for the express purpose of sneaking up on her and giving her heart failure.

“I don’t lurk,” he replied, his already furrowed brow drawing further together.  
  
Oh good. Today was one of his moodier days, when she referred to him in her head (and _only_ in her head) as the God of Sulk. One of those days where she tried to tiptoe away before he noticed her and turned her into an invertebrate. He was in a full leather ensemble, sans the armour, which never boded well for anyone.  
  
Better just to ignore his response and make a break for it. “So...I was just going to head out. Text me if you want dinner and I’ll bring Chinese.” She dumped the brownies and grabbed her coat but his next words stopped her in her tracks.  
  
“You don’t hug me.” Yeah, he was bringing the sulk and then some.  
  
She decided not to look at him was the better option, since whatever emotion was—or wasn’t—on his face might cause idiotic words to come pouring out of her mouth. “You’re not exactly the hugging kind.”  
  
“How would you know?” _Shit_. There was even a hint of vulnerability in his voice, and Loki never let emotion leak out unless he wanted it to. She had to know if it was reflected on his face, so she dropped the coat back on the seat and turned to him.  
  
“Because you’re big, bad Loki of Asgard. You’re a supervillain. Supervillains don’t do cuddles. I’m friends with those guys, I hug my friends. Whatever we are, I don’t think hugs are going to make things any less complicated.”  
  
The vulnerability, if it had ever been there, was shut away, and a glint of enlightenment lit up in his eyes. “Is that why you keep me at arms’ length? You seek to avoid entanglement with me because you think I can’t be affectionate?”  
  
“I...uh...” Where was he going with this?  
  
Fuck. He’d closed in, softened his voice, dug out the fancy words—basically, pulled out every weapon in his arsenal.  
  
“You believe that after a bout of passion I’d walk away, take my pleasure and abandon you?”  
  
“Um—pretty much?” The words came out about three octaves higher than her normal speaking tone. He was close enough now that his face filled her vision. His lovely, lovely face, with those penetrating eyes… _no, Darcy,_ so _not the right word to use at the moment_. She took a few steps away until her back hit the door and his eyes weren’t reducing her brain to mush anymore, though he kept his gaze locked on hers.  
  
“I can be affectionate. Some would say I’m in need of it...certainly more in need than the Captain.”  
  
She narrowed her eyes at him. He was being a manipulative shit but there was no trace of anything except sincerity in his expression, his best impression of a puppy welling out of those big eyes.  
  
“If you’re leaving,” he continued, “it is only fair you afford me the same courtesy you extend to everyone else.”  
  
“Okay,” she eventually breathed out, “but you better not be using this as an excuse to cop a feel.”  
  
“My hands will stay in entirely appropriate areas.”  
  
She sighed, shuffling closer, hoping to get it done and be out the door before her brain disconnected entirely. He waited with his arms held stiffly out to his sides, and she wrapped her arms around his torso, their height difference meaning she had to rest her head against his chest. She squeezed, ready to step back, but one hand, then the other, came to rest on her lower back.

His hands were so warm against her back, the heat from his fingers seeping through the thin cotton of her t-shirt and _damn_ were they big, each spanning the width of her back easily. His whole body was pretty warm, even beneath the leather, and it shouldn’t have struck her as odd but it did. She’d always thought that as a frost giant he’d be colder than normal, but whatever mojo he worked to keep his skin not-blue seemed to regulate his temperature too. She had to admit, realising how warm he was made him more appealing than he’d been a moment ago. Damn, he even had a normal heartbeat.  
  
He was also solid. Steve was more muscular but there was a softness to him that Loki didn’t have, his lean limbs belying the power within them.  He was still pretty tense, though he’d asked for this, so Darcy tightened her hold. He wasn’t exaggerating when he said he needed a hug—people didn’t just offer to them to him at random.

Considering it had gone beyond a friendly goodbye hug, she began to pull away, but she only got half an arms’ length from his body before he reeled her back in. He scooped her up easily with one arm to cradle her against the front of his body, torso to torso, her legs braced against one of his. She instinctively reached out to wrap her arms around his neck before realising even with just the one arm pinning her against him, she wasn’t going to fall. Still, that was all he did, just held her there, and she let her head fall against his shoulder, her breathing adjusting to match his.  
  
This was nicer than she’d expected. And his hands really were in appropriate places.  
  
She glanced up at him to find his eyes closed, the serenest expression on his face. So peaceful, so content. All from a simple hug. How long was it since he’d just been held by someone? Not sexual contact, just the comfort of another person’s touch. Hell, how long was it since he’d been touched by someone he wasn’t fighting? The only person she’d ever seen reach out for Loki was Thor, and Loki always saw him coming to flinch away.  
  
She cleared her throat and loosened her grip, hoping he’d get the idea to put her down, but the other hand which had been resting loosely against her upper back shifted, that arm wrapping around her waist too to pull her even tighter against him. She made a noise of protest and his eyes flickered open. All the peace had vanished, replaced with a heat that made her tingle right down to her toes.  
  
“I should go,” she said around the frog in her throat, but he made no move to put her down.  
  
“Why?” he murmured, his voice rumbling through his chest into her body. “You have nowhere important to be.”  
  
First rule of Loki: don’t bother lying because he can always tell. Darcy kept her mouth shut, knowing if she tried to contradict him, he would catch her out.  
  
“You should stay,” he continued, dipping his head so the words were breathed against her jaw, “and we should explore just how much affection I need.”  
  
The noise she made this time was probably best described as a squeak, though it cut off when his lips followed his breath, ghosting butterfly kisses across her cheek. In hindsight turning her face to look at him was a mistake. He took the access to her lips as acquiescence, covering them with his own, and her last truly coherent thought was she should have moved out the first time he propositioned her.  
  
His hand slid from her back down to the back of her thighs, and she found herself with her legs around his hips, no longer cradled against the side of his body. His mouth became more demanding, his tongue doing things to hers she was pretty sure were going to result in her combusting.  
  
He took the few steps to the wall and shifted his hips so they were pressed somewhere extremely pleasant, and she tore her lips away.  
  
“I think...I think...” she panted.  
  
“Don’t,” he commanded, one wily set of fingers sneaking under the hem of her t-shirt and stroking the skin at her side. She sucked her belly in, gripping hard at the leather on his back. He dropped to whisper into her ear. “If you tell me no, then we’ll stop, but do you really want me to cease this?” At the last, he circled his hips so they weren’t just pressing against her anymore, but grinding, and—

“Holy _fuck_ , don’t stop don’t stop don’t stop.”  
  
She could feel his smirk when he kissed her again, but she just couldn’t find the will to care. Two months she’d spent avoiding his advances—the intense stares, the whispered promises, the stolen touches, the way he liked to parade around in a towel after he’d showered. There was only so much a girl could take.  
  
He lifted her so her full weight was on his body again, then set off down the hallway. At least this way it’d get the tension out of the way. He’d said he wanted a full on relationship, but when he’d scratched this itch and changed his mind, she could look for another apartment.  
  
She opened her eyes with the slam of a door and found they were in his bedroom. Darcy’s sense of self-preservation had stopped her from ever entering Loki’s room, but she swore it couldn’t really be as big as this. The bed was super king-size but there was space for another three around it, the ceiling soared high overhead and she caught a glimpse of gilt through the door to the en suite. He’d magically enhanced the room—without offering to improve hers, the cad.  
  
With a wicked smile he dropped her onto the bed, and the mattress bounced beneath her, leaving her sprawled out. Of course his sheets were black. Not satin, though, or leather (thank god)—more like 10,000 thread Egyptian cotton, and she gave a porn-worthy groan as she sank into them. He made a noise that she swore was a purr, before crawling over her. “I’ll elicit many such sounds from you tonight.”  
  
If he just kept talking like that, she probably would—he wouldn’t even need to touch her. He was actually touching her, though, hands tugging at her t-shirt, so she leaned up to pull it off, leaving her in her so-not-favourite bra. He didn’t seem to care about the bra.  
  
“I’ve always liked these,” he said, cupping her boobs. What was it with men and her boobs? Anyone would think she laced her nipples with crack. Loki wasn’t immune, disposing of the bra in a flash of lace over his shoulder so he had full access, dipping down with his mouth.  
  
Well, that was nice, at least. More than nice. Good god, his tongue was amazing.  
  
All the leather he’d been wearing seemed to have melted away, but she kept her eyes averted from the promised land since they weren’t quite there yet. She was just thankful she didn’t have to figure out how to get all those clothes off of him. When he was done with her boobs, his mouth made trails across her collarbones, down her belly, along the ticklish part of her side. His warm tongue paid special attention to her neck while she melted into a pool of hormones. She’d never thought someone suckling her fingers would be anything but weird, yet holy hell did he make it feel good. All the while strange compliments rolled off his tongue across her body, about how she tasted and what he was going to do when she was naked, and how she wouldn’t be walking straight for days.  
  
And yeah, she was making those moans.  
  
When her jeans came off, his fingers went exploring, and she was thankful for it. She’d just caught sight of the royal scepter and preparation was going to be crucial. Gentle little circles gave way to curling motions and slick, firm strokes. Because he couldn’t keep his mouth idle, that found its way between her thighs too, though he stuck with her skin, nipping and biting enough to keep her off-kilter. She might have begged for him to finish the job—made offers of first borns and indentured servitude—but he just laughed at her, continuing with his teasing touches.  
  
Only when her thighs shook, when she was pulling on his hair hard enough that it had to hurt, when she began to call him every name she could think of, did he rise to his haunches. He brought her with him, arm under her ass, and lifted her clean into the air to meet his mouth. He was just showing off the power he had in his arms, but sweet baby Jesus so long as he kept doing what he was doing she would give him all the praise he wanted.  
  
Even that just seemed to be more teasing. “Don’t you stop—don’t you dare stop!” she yelled as he pulled away once more, but he ignored her, lowering her so she was on her knees above him.  
  
“Trust me,” he said. “You’ll like this even more.” And he guided her down.  
  
She seemed to average one porn-star moan per inch, but at this point he’d earned it. There were a lot of inches and she stopped before it got too uncomfortable, bracing herself properly against him so she had the leverage to move.  
  
For the first time in several minutes she met his eyes, and green fire burned in them. That same intensity she’d seen for weeks, the same promises he’d made, blazing out at her, and she realised a stubborn god like Loki wouldn’t just change his mind about something like this. Even if she were just an itch to scratch, he lived such a long time then it might take her entire lifetime to properly settle that urge.  
  
Then the enormity, and absurdity, of the situation hit her. She had a _god_ inside her. A very gifted, talented god who was pulling her in for another kiss.  
  
He looped her arms around his shoulders so they were pressed chest to chest, and with a lift of his hips urged her to start moving.  
  
It took a few moments to find a rhythm they agreed on, since she didn’t have godlike thighs and he wanted to set a pace that would’ve required them. They reached a compromise when she shifted higher and it gave his tongue unfettered access to her boobs, so she could keep at a softer rocking motion. All that teasing and the way his mouth and cock seemed to be everywhere at once unravelled her pretty quickly. The moans escalated into breathy screams, and only his firm grip on her hips kept her moving through the first orgasm.

He took over then, thrusting upwards while she babbled his name, head lolling onto his shoulder. She came a couple more times, her grasp on reality thinning as the way he moved beneath her became more uncontrolled. She wasn’t even moving anymore, just being held up by those impossibly strong arms. She was pretty sure his strength could be put to other uses.  
  
When he bit down on her collarbone, eliciting a yelled curse, she knew he wasn’t going to last much longer. It was the last kiss that finished her entirely, the gentle sweep of his tongue so different to what was happening below. The world pulsed white hot while he stilled against her, spitting out words in a language she didn’t recognise.  
  
If he hadn’t still been holding her, she’d have melted to the mattress, all control over her motor functions apparently tossed out into the ether. True to his word, he cradled her against him as he rolled onto his back, her head nestled on his shoulder, his heartbeat thrumming up through her skin. His fingers didn’t stop moving, tracing soft patterns across her back. She didn’t have the energy to squirm away.  
  
When the ceiling had stopped spinning she attempted to speak.  
  
“You know, I don’t think your hands stayed in appropriate places.”  
  
She didn’t need to look at him to see his smirk—his entire posture told her just how proud he was of himself. “You never specified what situation I was supposed to remain appropriate for.”  
  
“You sneaky bastard.”  
  
“It truly wasn’t my aim, although I won’t complain about where it led.”  
  
Darcy became aware that the smile on her face was probably all soft and gooey, like a Disney princess staring at the prince after their first kiss. She could totally blame it on the endorphins still pumping through her system, but any indication she was getting too attached was going to make Loki run a mile. _Don’t let it get awkward. Don’t let it get awkward._ “So...I guess you’re not one for a post-coital smoke?”  
  
He rolled his head to face her, one eyebrow cocked as he figured out her meaning, then raised one hand above the sheets, smoke pouring off it.  
  
“You _totally_ stole that joke.” But she laughed in spite of herself.  
  
“Perhaps it was stolen from me.” His whole body rolled now, one arm looping around her waist to drag her closer. “And who said anything about _post_ -coital?”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Rameau and TrixieTropical for pre-reading this stupidness.
> 
> It came to me in a dream...no really, it did. Loki demanded a hug because he was jealous I hugged Thor :/.
> 
> If you're inclined to read something slightly less plotless, I do have a multichapter WIP called Not Forgotten on the go.


End file.
